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A History of English Literature in a Series of Biographical Sketches
William Francis Collier
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2015
acted afterwards already appeared beauty became began born brilliant called Cambridge century CHAPTER character Charles chief Church close College coloured court death deep died early Edinburgh England English Essays eyes fame father four gave genius give hand head heart Henry History honour Illustrative Italy James John kind King Lady land language later Latin learned letters light lines List literary literature lived London Lord Milton mind nature never night noble noted novel Oxford passed picture play poem poet poetry political poor printed prose published received remaining round royal seems soon SPECIMEN spent story style sweet things Thomas thought took translation turned verse volumes writer written wrote young
Seite 149 - O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep ; Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Seite 209 - The other Shape — If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb ; Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, For each seemed either — black it stood as Night, 670 Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell, And shook a dreadful dart : what seemed his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
Seite 378 - I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators, has succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever.
Seite 324 - How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Seite 391 - His steps are not upon thy paths — thy fields Are not a spoil for him — thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling, to his gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth : there let him lay.
Seite 149 - Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
Seite 378 - It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the queen of France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision.
Seite 350 - I might boast myself le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre, that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world contending ; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it.
Seite 211 - No sooner had the Almighty ceased but — all The multitude of Angels, with a shout Loud as from numbers without number, sweet As from blest voices, uttering joy — Heaven rung With jubilee, and loud hosannas filled The eternal regions.